The Last Plague

By Miss Sarah Cohen

It was early in the night, an unclouded moon shone
serenely, surrounded by her million of glittering attendants; all was
still, for the hours of labour were passed. But the unbroken silence
that prevailed was unusual in that delicious clime; for no sounds of
music, nor glad voices of gay revelers, fresh from the banquet, were
heard in the streets; no tone of merry jesting, or sprightly laugh of
maidens, as they bathed in the cool river, broke on the ear. But no
wonder that the people mourned the desolation of their land! Proud Egypt
was now a waste. Within the last few days there had been a prospect of
abundance, and the husband­man’s heart had exulted as he gazed on his
fertile fields, which gave such fair promises; or viewed his trees
loaded with their, as yet, immature burden. Now, all was desolation! In
an hour, nay, a moment, had sped forth the rain. The word of command had
been spoken by that powerful and skilful magician, (for so deemed they
the prophet Moses,) and, obedient to his call, came down that fearful
hail and fire; and the Egyptians mourned the destruction of their
cattle, and much of their promised plenteous harvest. The promise had
been given for the liberation of the oppressed Hebrews, and was
disregarded, as frequently before, hitherto, after the first moments of
terror were over; and again, at the summons of Moses, a new evil came
speedily along, and a mighty army of locusts completed, in their
insatiable appetite, the utter devastation of the land. Once again had
that mighty man stretched forth his hand; when quick, at his word,
spread that awful, that palpable darkness, which had shaded the once
fair land in heavy gloom. What wonder, then, that an unwonted silence
prevailed?

But, though horror-stricken by these tremendous
strokes, the king and wise men and priests of Egypt were not yet
subdued, and they were still resolved to detain the despised and hated
Hebrews in their hard and galling bondage. It was but the very day, on
which this beautiful night of the full moon of the spring month had
followed, that Moses had again demanded the freedom of his people; when,
also, the magicians and men skilled in the secret arts, had been
summoned to consult with the king, to devise with him some cunning
scheme to arrest the power of their dreaded antagonist. Fools! they knew
not who that antagonist was! they weened that it was a mortal with whom
they strove, when his hand was strengthened by that mighty One who rules
to eternity. It was therefore with slow speech, becoming his station,
that the chief priest of Isis, surrounded by his followers and
sorcerers, thus addressed Egypt’s ruler: “Let not thy heart be troubled,
O king! at the bold speech of the presumptuous rebel, and suffer not
these men of Israel to leave our service; are they not our property,
born to perform our labour? did we not inherit them, with our land, from
our fathers! and shall we now, at the bidding of one of their own race,
deprive ourselves of our rightful possession and the product of their
toil? Eternal disgrace be ours, to harbour a thought to let them go
free! It was none but a few craven hearts, dastards, who could, in the
moment of fear, counsel thee, O mighty monarch of this fair land! to
consent to such a demand as yon rebel addressed to thee; and to their
sorrow shall the slaves experience that we heed not the threats of their
leader, though he come armed with tremendous power. And fear not, O king! for the gods will surely aid us in our contest with this new Deity,
whose vengeance we are, of late, commanded to dread, and soon will it be
seen who will prevail; and we predict a speedy death to the leader of
the slaves who would needs be free.” He spoke, and all the priests that
filled the presence chamber shouted their assent; and the deluded king
but too readily listened to their admonition, and believed in the boast
of their supposed power, and had, therefore, wrapped in his fancied
security, uttered the imperious speech to the prophet: “Get thee away
from me, take heed of thyself, that thou see my face no more; for on the
day thou seest my face, thou shalt die.” Moses had reproved him for his
breach of faith in yielding to his bad advisers; wherefore he threatened
the man of God with his presumptuous words, in the fullness of his
arrogance and confidence in his kingly power. Again the magicians came
to Pharoah, after he had dismissed Moses, and they rejoiced in their
renewed importance, in having induced their king, who was almost ready
to yield, to scorn the last warning of the prophet; and they vainly
hoped that his power was now rendered unavailing. From morning, till the
shadows of evening began to spread over the earth, they had been in
earnest consultation with the king, and only when the night had set in,
they turned their steps again to their temple of idolatry. And when they
had reached there, they again spoke among themselves of the cowardice of
two of their order, till then amongst the wisest and most learned of
their magicians, who had, on a late awful occasion, when their tricks
failed to produce the effect they desired, thrown down the implements of
their art, and the books of their science, and boldly said to the
monarch of Egypt: “The power to do this is not ours; vain and impotent
are all human enchantments; it is not alone the skill of Moses which
bringeth desolation on the land, and worketh the mighty deeds we
witness, but the finger of God! Not as our gods is the great God of the
Hebrews. He reigns over them, and his power extendeth over all; his will
may not be controlled; He speaketh his word to thee by Moses, his chosen
messenger. Hearken then to his voice, and let the sons of Israel depart
in peace.” How did these idolatrous priests scoff as they spoke of those
men; but louder arose their laughter of derision, when one of them
related how these two men had been seen, that very day, with their wives
and children, on the road to the land of Goshen, there, no doubt, to
dwell with those people, who had, for ages, been no more than their
herds and cattle; inherited, like them, from sire to son: and the very
temple of idolatry rang with their peals of scornful merriment!

“But,” said one, “the king was at one time inclined
to follow their advice; their counsel seemed wise to him; but a few
words from our revered chief showed him the great injustice he would be
guilty of in commanding us to divest ourselves of our rightful
possessions.”

“Shame on us, though,” said another, “for thus
allowing a stranger to outstrip us in our own art; and shame it was in
the late king to educate him in our knowledge. He has been diligent,
whilst we have grown careless; now he directs his skill against us, and
we also see, by the manifestation of his power, how much yet remains for
us to attain; but of this anon; our conquest is attained, and this night
ends Egypt’s trouble, when that vile rebel’s life is ended. No more will
these sons of Israel make their insolent demands for freedom. The
destruction of their leaders will intimidate them into a proper
submission to us, their rightful masters. Behold this vase, it seems but
small, but if destruction to the whole race of Israel were our object,
it could be accomplished by its power.” He then placed before them a
small vessel, of a transparent, ruby colour, beautifully formed, and
tipped with a golden flame of curious workmanship. “Long have I striven
to accomplish this great work, to rid my country of her enemy; my task
is done; now ye shall see the success of my labours; straight to the
dwellings of these audacious slaves will I repair; I know the habitation
of that proud troubler and his coadjutors and brothers, they have dared
to menace our land with such plagues, about the midnight hour, its land
was never yet visited with; but not the utmost stretch of their boasted
skill can accomplish what they have threatened; for ere it be midnight
they shall sleep in death; this golden flame shall be removed from this
vase by my hand alone, for to no other will I entrust the task; from it,
when unsealed and placed within the threshold, such a pestilential
vapour will pour forth, that no one may breathe it and live. The subtle
and destroying air will soon reach the inmates, and then how broken will
be the hopes of those who seek their leaders in the morning, and find
foul and putrid corpses! Long and silently have I toiled; sleep has not
refreshed my weary frame for many a night; feverish have been the brief
slumbers I could snatch since the time these plagues desolated our once fair land. But now all will be well, the
workers of mischief will be annihilated; and had I ten lives to lose,
willingly would I lose them.”

“ But, father,” said a vigorous and comely youth,
“thy cheek is pale; thy hand trembles, be mine the task; trust to me the
deliverance of our country, I burn to take vengeance on its enemies;
seek thy rest, dear father, destroy not thyself with unnecessary toil,
but leave to me the completion of this glorious work.” “Oh! that it
might be mine,” exclaimed another youth. “Sorely grieved am I that I may
not be present,” cried another; and yet another, and another, expressed
a wish that they might share in the great deed which was to rid them for
ever of their enemies.

“Brother,” said one of the chief priests, “thy son
speaks well, leave to young and more vigorous hands the consummation of
thy glorious undertaking.” “Come, father,” again resumed the youth, “let
me entreat thee, grant me a portion in the glory; that, which the wisdom
of my father has planned, let the hand of his son execute; I will not
cease my entreaties till thou yieldest to me; I beseech thee, dear
father, to grant me my request.” With earnest words he prayed, and at
length his father granted his desire. “Go then, my son,” said he, “on
thy way, and falter not.” “No fear, my father, that I falter or fail, I
will not pause nor rest till the deed is accomplished; triumphant shall
I return; the morn shall witness Egypt’s deliverance from her
tormentors; come then, repose in peace, my father, and you too, honoured
instructors, distrust me not.” He suddenly paused, all eyes were turned
on him; he turned pale, strove to speak, in vain, utterance failed him;
a few sharp, harsh sounds, scarce human, escaped from his lips; he
looked wildly around, snatched at the vacant air, tottered, fell to the
ground—and he lay on the marble pavement an inanimate corpse. In a
moment had all this passed; but now his comrades raise him; the skilful
men apply their remedies. In vain! life has fled; the father’s cries
resound through the temple; “my son! my first born!” Nought avail thy
potent remedies, O magician—or thy shrieks and wails, O father! What
charm can restore life? what lamentations recall the tenant breath?
Hoping against reason, his comrades wish to bear him out into the cold
air; they advance to raise the lifeless one; suddenly, another, with a
hollow groan, convulsively raises his hand to his breast, and with that
movement he falls prostrate. A third, with a scream of, horror, sinks
down a corpse on his companions’ bodies. Wild shrieks run through the
columned sanctuary; another, and yet another, falls headlong to the
ground; consternation takes the place of grief. “Ha,” screams one, “the
threatened plague is on us, the plague is on us.” They rush madly into
the streets; what meets them there? the sky was clear still, serenely
clear; still bright and glowing shone the sparkling stars in their deep
blue canopy, and as silvery shone the cold moon; but the streets! are
they silent yet? Oh no! wild cries of terror, screams of despair, sobs,
groans, and lamentations resound on every side. “My first born,” “my
only one,” are heard from a thousand tongues, mixed with sounds of agony
and affright, and thus with one acclamation they shout, “Oh let us to
the king! let us to the king! drive out the sons of Israel! or we are
all dead men! To the palace! to the palace!” And still the shrieking,
wailing crowd increases; and as they pass on to the royal residence,
from palace, from hut, from dungeon, still resounds that fearful cry.

“Art thou not, father, the deliverer of Egypt?
didst thou not counsel the king well? doubtless a royal reward awaits
thee.” So spoke a young pupil to his instructor, at whose word, but a
few short moments before, he would have braved the utmost danger, and
thought it glory; but, a beloved brother had been stricken down by his
side, and he now saw the utter futility of the scheme which so lately
was thought certain of success; his comrades fell fast around him, and
he knew not who might be next.

Another scene appears. In a gorgeous apartment, in
the habitation of one of Egypt’s proud nobles, a young and beautiful
pair, but lately linked by wedlock are seated; their conversation is on
the late grievous troubles of the land, but they see nothing, in these
visitations, beyond the skill of a cunning magician, who might yet be
overpowered by others more skilful yet. They speak confidently of the
power of the priests, to render impotent the art of Moses. And then,
what retribution, what terrible retaliation, should be taken on those
hereditary slaves; what fearful exactions should be imposed of them,
when that fell destroyer, who had so desolated Egypt, should be deprived
of power and life. From this they turn to many a waking dream of future
life, of fame, wealth, glory, love, and royal favour, of the
transmission of their honour to future generations, who would, to their
latest descendants, hand down the glorious deeds, which the youth had
already performed, and those also which he would yet accomplish. Vain
thoughts! in the midst of his proud anticipations, his eloquent tongue
grows silent, a violet hue o’erspreads his face, fast followed by a
ghastly green, and in a moment he is a breathless corpse; her wailings
ring through that proud mansion, rouse the menials, and reach the ears
of his parents; they hasten into the apartment to know what those
ill-omened sounds may mean. A glance tells the tale. “Oh, my child! Oh,
my husband!” mingle in their shrieks. But what is this? down, convulsed,
falls his favourite attendant, who was leaning over his young master’s
cold and senseless body. He gives one struggle, and is as senseless.
Another starts, as if from the touch of a being invisible to all but
him, and falls on his young master’s corpse, and as inanimate too as he;
affrighted the survivors all rush out. Who can stay in the house of
death? Grief is for­gotten in their frantic affright. They mingle with
the crowd in the streets, and join the wild shout: “Oh, send the Hebrews
out before we are all dead.” “Drive them forth without one moment’s
delay;” and they hasten forward to the royal mansion. Every moment fresh
crowds join them, wailing and shrieking in wild confusion; those who
fall, rise no more; they are trampled on, and trodden down by their
companions, till not a breath of life dues remain in their bruised and
bleeding bodies. They halt not in their course for those fallen ones,
for fear triumphed over love. The slave steps now over his fallen
master, and brother over brother, exclaiming, “Egypt is lost.”

But there are sounds of lamentation too from those
valiant and stern warriors. See them, how they too hasten to the King.
Does panic seize them, too? Hark to their cries! They have seen their
comrades fall around them, fast as falls the ripened fruit when the tree
is shaken by the rude blast. The prison-houses, too, are standing
unguarded; the doors are open, and the late captive inmates go forth
unheeded. What! has death been there too! Behold, how those wan and
wasted creatures drag with difficulty that young child’s inanimate clay
to the portals of their late prison, shrieking, “Help for my child!” but
soon forgetting grief for that lost one in wild horror, as a
terror-stricken group, with frantic shouts, came rushing along the
streets: they join the throng hastening to the palace, leaving that
young child’s corpse, the body of that only one, so dear, so loved as he
had been, their solace in their sorrow, amidst the shouts, “Egypt is
lost!” “Seek the wise men of the Hebrews!” “Send them out!” “Haste, oh
King! haste, before we are all dead!”

They are now within the precincts of the royal
residence; they rush unhindered through the portals, for no armed guards
oppose their entrance; unmolested they enter the chambers of state.
What! death there, too! Here, on the royal seat, lies the corpse of one
of the menials of the palace, his father bending over him, bathing his
cold face with his tears, forgetting, in his grief, the sacredness of
the place where he had laid the body, which but to touch with a meaner
hand than royalty were a crime worthy of death. But listen to those
wailings! In rushes Pharaoh, disordered in his apparel. “Hearken to our
demands,” called out a hundred voices; “Send out the Israelites, or we
are all lost!” “If thou refuse, thy house shall be instantly consumed
by fire, and even thou shalt not escape!” “Thou hast brought this
trouble on us,” shouted one, furious with rage, forgetting that it was
the monarch whom he addressed, and that he had been as much opposed to
the release of the bondmen as the king himself; “thou hast destroyed us,
but think not to escape thyself,” he said, and raised, with threatening
gesture, his hand, armed with a weapon which had been dropped by one of
the affrighted guards. “Stay those rash words,” said the king; “thinkest
thou that I participate not in this frightful desolation? Death has been
busy here also; low in death lies Egypt’s heir. And look around; even as
this chamber is every one of this mansion; there is no place within
these gates without a corpse struck down by this pestilence! My
brightest hope is gone; like you I am bereaved; I mourn, and suffer. We
must seek instantly the dwelling of the messenger of the great God of
the Hebrews, and humbly beg of him to intercede for us, that this stroke
may be removed. We have all sinned, I your king, and ye my people; let
us now speed these people on their way, so may we hope that this fearful
desolation may be stayed.”

They all leave the palace, the king taking the
lead. What a contrast to that disturbed scene below, is that calm,
cloudless firmament above; bright as ever blaze those glittering stars,
and as lovely and mild does that pale moon pour down her silvery beams.
On now hastens that weeping, wailing crowd, in melancholy procession; no
longer in the midst of horror, but, in the sad bitterness of grief, they
gain the dwellings of their bondmen; all is serene and peaceful there.
Quickly they reach the residence of the messenger of God, and, with
humble entreaties and deprecating words, the tyrant requests once more
the influence of the prophet to arrest the awful destruction which he
so recently had impiously defied, when warned of the consequence of
persisting in his obdurate perjury. As the mourning multitude pressed
on, many a door of a peaceful habitation was thrown open, to see what
this unwonted disturbance might portend; but those who looked out
seemed not as if roused from sleep, but with garments girded, and staff
in hand, they were prepared for journeying. Their ears are greeted with
unusual sounds; it was no more the haughty, exacting, insolent master;
oh no; it was the humble, trembling language of supplication that they
heard: Oh! men of Israel, we beseech ye leave us;” “Even now, this
instant, intercede with your God for us, that this judgment may be
removed from our land. We have all sinned, both king and people. Your
God is just; terrible is his power; no god is as wonderful as He. Stay
no longer, we beseech ye; spare us, for your stay is death.” Others,
frantic with fear, shrieked out, “Ye shall tarry no longer; go out, even
now, since ye desired to worship your God in the wilderness; depart from
the land this very night.” They are obeyed; the dwellings of the
Israelites pour forth their peaceful inhabitants, unharmed, unscathed by
the pestilence, followed by their flocks and herds, and led on by their
venerated leaders, of whom, with humble words, the monarch solicited a
blessing for himself and people. And now, with thanksgivings and songs
of praise to the God of all worlds for their deliverance, the Israelites
turn for ever their steps from the land of their hard captivity.

Note by the Editor.—The above sketch,
descriptive of the last plague, comes to us from a subscriber, as the
production of a young Jewess of New York. We are aware that it has
defects, inseparable from first attempts at composition ; but still we
insert it, to encourage our young sister to attempt vain the
illustration of her faith, we trust with better success, as her
experience, and judgment become more matured.